


yours for the taking

by leetlebird



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, hopefully very light angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22043371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leetlebird/pseuds/leetlebird
Summary: It's only taken Troy five years to realize he's in love with his best friend. He figures he can wait a little longer for Parse to notice.
Relationships: Kent "Parse" Parson/Jeff "Swoops" Troy
Comments: 142
Kudos: 226





	1. December

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this first chapter all in one sitting like an hour ago, hallelujah. Hoping to take this gay Kent-loving energy into 2020.

**DECEMBER**

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


I just want you for my own,

More than you could ever know… [(x)](https://open.spotify.com/track/1FRqLI971CD1QedTiJeL3c)  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


Yesterday, the Aces goalie had warned Troy that he lived his Christmas season in strict adherence to the Bublé lockdown rule. Troy had thought that whole thing was just a Twitter meme, but half an hour into Keillor’s Christmas party, it seemed pretty legit.

“Come on, bro, this is such a fucking slap in the face to, like, festiveness,” Parse said. “You’re playing this and not the Mariah Carey version?”

“All Bublé all day,” Keillor yelled, sloshing another shot of whiskey into his cider. 

Parse shuddered. It made the pompoms on his ugly Christmas sweater move a little. “Disgraceful.”

Troy only really liked the old-school Christmas songs himself, Nat King Cole and Bing Crosby and all that, but he laughed. Parse grinned at him, kind of pink in the face after too much wine, and Troy laughed again. He couldn’t help it.

The agenda for the evening was basically to pack in an insane amount of Christmas, and they already had a whole table covered in frosted cookies to show for it. Really, really shittily frosted cookies. Parse had taken a picture of his gingerbread man next to Troy’s. “We both suck so bad,” Parse had said, “but at least I used more than one color. Christmas slacker.”

Troy had pushed him, and Parse had hit him in the stomach. He hadn’t let Troy eat the cookies either, because they “looked cute together”. Whatever.

“Gather, gather!” Brody, one of their forwards, was yelling. People weren’t listening, so he grabbed a bell ornament off the tree and tried to shake it loud enough. “Shut up, everyone! We’re doing the exchange thing.”

Parse met Troy’s eyes from across the room. His face was stern, kind of, trying to silently tell Troy not to say what he was definitely going to say.

“Every time a bell rings….” Troy started, and a handful of guys enthusiastically filled in the rest of the line. 

Parse snickered, his head tilting down by his shoulder, and Troy grinned back. He missed Keillor and Brody rehashing the rules for the gift exchange, but he was pretty sure he could handle it. 

It was obvious pretty much right away that their group was definitely more inclined to steal gifts than open new ones. No surprises there. Troy felt more than a little satisfaction when the gift he had brought, a pack of air freshener sprays, was quickly stolen twice, which officially meant it could no longer be stolen. 

“Hot commodity, Troy,” one of the guys said, and a lot of them laughed. 

Parse’s laugh looked fake. Which was weird. 

It was a huge group of them, something like thirty people at the party, and they weren’t even halfway around the circle at this point. Parse hadn’t had his turn yet, but he already looked like he was disappointed and trying to hide it. The kind of thing where his smile looked weird around the edges and his hands didn’t move much. Troy didn’t think anyone else would really notice that, but he couldn’t exactly be best friends with Parse for five years without picking up on these basic tells. 

It was Ollie’s turn. The defenseman stood up, marching up and down the side of the circle where people already had their presents. “Hmm… maybe… no… maybe… okay, hand it over, Brianna.” 

Brody’s wife gave him the Star Wars salt and pepper shakers she’d had, then stole another gift. Thus, a ripple effect of stealing was set off, until a girlfriend whose name Troy honestly didn’t know opted to open a new present instead. 

Parse crossed his arms, then uncrossed them so he could play with his socks. 

God, okay. So at least Troy knew what was up.

He had to wait another few minutes for his turn, but by then he’d figured out which gift Kent had brought -- the music box that opened up to a sexy female dancer and played “Lady Marmalade”. Apparently it was too weird, or too pointless, for anyone to want to steal it.

“Okay,” Troy said, once it was finally his turn to move. “I’m stealing… this one.” He snagged the music box and returned to his seat. “She’ll cheer me up on the hard days.”

Everyone laughed, and Parse was practically glowing. He hugged his knees to himself, smiling over at Troy like he’d just pulled a child out of the path of a moving vehicle or something.

“Hey, excuse me, Parse,” Troy said, shielding the music box with his hands. “Stop looking at it like that. It’s mine. Don’t even think about it.” 

Apparently Troy’s little act actually made people look differently at the creepy music box, because a few turns later, someone stole it from him. Troy grabbed the huge sudoku book that he actually wanted, and Parse looked even happier now that his gift had been stolen enough to be out of play, so that was officially a win-win.

The only dumb thing was that Parse was stuck on the total opposite side of the room from him, so as soon as the game ended Troy made a beeline for him. “Dude,” he said. He nodded at the gigantic Hello Kitty pillow in Parse’s hands. “You think Purrs is going to like that? I saw how she reacted when you got that cat oven mitt.”

“Bitch, she’s changed,” Parse muttered. He looked guiltily at the pillow. “But if she hates it and tries to fight it or something, do you want it?”

“No,” Troy said, and he leaned against Parse, shoulder to shoulder as they sat by each other on the floor. “Sorry, nothing against your pillow, it’s just that I have this thing….”

“I already know you’re going to say taste --”

“Taste,” Troy finished. He laughed at his own joke, mostly because Parse was cracking up and Parse’s laugh always sent him over the edge. 

He noticed that Parse smelled different. But a good different. He was going to figure that one out later, because if it was a new cologne or something, he wanted to know where Parse got it. Parse always had the best colognes. 

“Wait, what are those?” Parse said suddenly, leaning across Troy to stare at his plate. “Pretzels? Chocolate-covered pretzels?”

“Chocolate and caramel,” Troy replied, and he laughed again when Parse pushed against him to stand up. “They’re on the counter, not the big table. You missed them.”

Parse got up, and Brody suddenly shoved another mug of cider into Troy’s hand. “Drink up, T-Bird,” he said. “Make that Uber home a good investment.”

Troy elected not to complain about the nickname, because that would just make it permanent. “Dude. You’re too dangerous. I already -- “

“STOP!” a woman yelled. “Stop, don’t move! Mistletoe, mistletoe!” 

It was Riley, Keillor’s girlfriend, Troy realized, and then it seemed like everyone else at the party was cheering and whooping. This was something like the fourth time a mistletoe event had occurred tonight, and it was already getting old, Troy thought.

“‘Atta boy, Parse!” someone yelled, and Troy shot up, suddenly feeling like there was electricity running along his spine. 

The mistletoe had been moving to different spots all night, the culprits involved trying to catch people unaware. It had worked on Parse this time. 

He was standing a few yards away from the snack counter, trapped in place by the party hosts as they clamored for someone to come over and kiss him. He was uncomfortable, Troy could read from the tension across his shoulders, but then Parse must have made a concerted effort to play it cool, because his shoulders came down. He laughed, lifted his arms like a challenge for someone to come plant one on him.

Troy felt it in his stomach, every different layer of what was happening. Parse was gay. Troy knew that, was one of maybe five people in the room who knew that. There was no way to resolve this moment that wasn’t at least somewhat painful. 

And -- he couldn’t help but imagine it. How he could lean into Parse’s space, wrap one arm around that tacky Christmas sweater, kiss Parse like crazy until everyone was catcalling them. Or how he could laugh it off, give Parse a clean peck on the lips, something respectful like that. Or, or, or, how he could feel Parse’s dumb, gorgeous hair, look right at him until Parse had to catch his breath or bite his lip or _something_ , and pull Parse closer by the small of his back into a kiss that went on forever. Things that could happen a few alternate universes to the left, maybe. 

Because Parse was gay. And Troy was too, and he’d seen a few of the guys Parse went after. Tall, athletic but not bulky. Brown hair, dark hair. Guys who looked kind of like him. 

It wasn’t that crazy for Troy to think about Parse like that, not when he knew he was Parse’s type. Not when he’d realized five years ago that Parse was definitely, definitely _his_ type, even if they were just friends. 

None of the girls at the party were single, so their huge, half-toothless defenseman went over and pretended to ravish Parse or something. Everyone laughed, Parse came up red and laughing along with them, and Troy drank half his new mug of cider in one go.

“Fuck you guys,” Parse said, good-natured, and when he returned with the stupid pretzels that Troy wished he’d never seen in the first place, he squeezed himself under Troy’s arm. 

“That was memorable,” Troy said under his breath.

“Joey will never forget it,” Parse agreed, licking his lips. “They always come crawling back for more.”

Troy laughed, the kind of laugh that was surprised right out of him and probably had a little spittle in it, and he whacked Parse in the side of the head with the hand that was already resting on him. “Oh my god, Parse. Shut up.”

Parse grabbed a pretzel off his plate and stuck it in his mouth, whole, eyes warm on Troy the whole time. “‘Kay.”

There was more alcohol, more trips to the food table. Mistletoe, but Troy avoided it and Parse didn’t get caught there again. More alcohol, and more. He liked Parse’s socks, little gingerbread men like the ones that were cute together. 

At some point, Troy decided he needed to sober up, so he switched to water. Parse didn’t, and he was going into that weird cat-like phase where he curled up and tried to keep talking even though half his face was squished against the carpet. It was cat-like if Troy was being generous, but maybe more like a dying insect if he wasn’t. 

He stayed by Parse, sort of because other people might be dicks to him when he was like this, and sort of because Parse could still keep up a good conversation when he was drunk. They were always on the same wavelength, anyway. 

Just after one in the morning, one of their teammates came over and said he was getting an Uber. Victor lived in the same building as Parse, so Troy reluctantly let Parse transfer to Victor’s custody. “Don’t let him fall on his face,” Troy warned. 

Victor waved his hand in front of Parse. “You still in there, buddy?”

“Ah.” Parse blinked hard, several times, and shook his head a little. “I’m fine. Are we going?”

“Five minutes,” Victor said. He looked at his phone again. “Shit, two minutes. Yeah, let’s go.”

Troy watched them leave. He should probably go too. If he waited too long the rides would get more expensive, and this party wasn’t going to be as fun without Parse being weird next to him.

He went to get more water, and then he wandered around until he found Keillor and Riley. He had been raised with enough good manners to thank the hosts and say goodbye, even if his legs felt kind of wobbly underneath him. “Dude,” he said, giving Keillor a real bro hug. “Great night. Thanks for having me.” He gave Riley a hug too, sort of. “You guys know how to throw a real party, I’ll say that.”

Riley laughed. She patted him on the shoulder, kind of gentle. “You’re awesome, Troy. You should hang out with us more.”

“Aw, you’re awesome too!” Troy smiled at her, then did a double-take. “Wait, hold up. When did you get a haircut? And there’s blue in it now?” Like, just a little blue, but that was cool for an NHL girlfriend. Props to her and shit.

“Troy! Excuse me, how are you just noticing this now?”

“Oh my god, let me go. I didn’t see you all night, come on! Do I need to get out of here before I make you mad? Keillor?”

“Dude, you were sitting by us at the gift exchange,” Keillor laughed. “No excuses.” 

Troy wracked his mind. There wasn’t much of it left at the moment, which made things tricky. “I don’t -- huh. Must have missed it. Looks good! You look great.”

“Thanks, thanks,” Riley said, and Troy was just going to have to take it on faith that she wasn’t actually offended, because his Uber was here. “Seriously, come over again soon! We don’t see you enough.”

Troy didn’t really think about that during the ride home, about Keillor and Riley and when he might hang out with them again. 

What he did think about was Riley’s hair, and how the hell could he be in the same room with her all night and not notice that she’d cut off, like, six inches? That it was fucking _blue_?

They were sitting right by each other for the gift exchange. Apparently. But he’d been paying attention to Parse during that part of the night. He remembered how Parse had lit up in relief when Troy made him feel like he’d brought a good present, and Troy couldn’t help but smile out the window of the car for a second.

He did remember that Riley had gotten all excited about the mistletoe. But he hadn’t even looked at her then, just watched Parse again. 

He couldn’t remember any conversation he’d had with a single person there. He couldn’t remember what anyone was eating, or drinking, or wearing. Not after he started drinking, and not even before that. He just remembered looking at Parse, his hair and his eyes and how he ate his food, and his socks and his ridiculous sweater. His jeans, his laugh, his smile, and pretty much every word he’d said to Troy all night. He remembered all of it.

“Oh,” Troy said out loud. “Oh, man.”

There was something different here. It wasn’t about being best friends. Not about being attracted to Parse. 

This was -- 

_I made it!_ Parse texted him. _Text me when you get home?_ There was a weird emoji then, a monkey making a face. Troy didn’t really understand. 

He felt like his heart was flipping over just from reading Parse’s name on his phone, though, and he did understand what _that_ meant. It meant -- he was an idiot, his head was spinning, he felt unaccountably happy. 

It meant he was in love. _Love._ It meant he was going to try to make something happen with Parse this year, even if he had to make it his damn New Year’s resolution. 

_Home,_ he texted Parse once he got out of the car, and his phone felt warm in his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, every chapter is going to be a different month. Yes, there will be pining. #PrayForSwoops


	2. January

**JANUARY**

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


It’s you and me, and all other people

And I don’t know why I can’t keep my eyes off of you… [(x)](https://open.spotify.com/track/0815caqt2Lytro5EIzMufT)  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


They celebrated their first win of the new year at the same bar they always did. Parse sat at one of the stools by the counter, up tall where his feet couldn’t touch the floor, and Troy sat next to him like always. Trying not to stare at him too much, which was kind of new. 

Well, the staring wasn’t new. The realization that it actually meant something, and that it was something he should try to rein in, was new.

They all got plastered pretty quick, though, and it was hard to remember self-control when his face was hot and senseless, gravity pulling him sideways into Parse’s space. He was giddy, smiling every time he remembered who he was sitting next to.

Parse was drinking a lot too, getting sloppy, but his energy was turned outward, toward everyone else. Parse always liked being the center of attention. Troy knew that. He was the captain, the star, the one who’d scored tonight’s game-winner. He was in his element, and he was four drinks in.

“For he’s a jolly good fellow…” Brody and Keillor started singing, hands on Parse’s shoulders, maybe teasing him as much as they were celebrating him, but Parse laughed, and Troy covered his eyes with his beer mug so he wouldn’t stare anymore. 

Someone asked for his autograph. A fan, a blur in an Aces jersey. He felt like an idiot, probably a slobbering drunk who was going to wake up tagged in an unflattering Instagram photo tomorrow, but it was a distraction. Troy shook himself after the fan walked away with their signed hat, and he got up to use the bathroom.

It was kind of lonely in there, and there was toilet paper on the floor. Troy felt unsteady on his legs, weirdly disconnected from them, and he sat down on the closed toilet and scrolled through Instagram while he waited.

Waiting for -- the numb feeling to pass? His brain to stop being weird and telling him everything was a waste of time if Parse wasn’t paying attention to him?

He paused from scrolling, staring down at a picture that Parse had posted with his cat. It was one of those family-friendly ones, the type PR was always on his case about. He was holding Kit in his arms like a baby. One of her little paws was curled around Parse’s bicep, his skin bare under the short sleeve of his soft-looking T-shirt. 

Parse’s face looking down at the cat was the sweetest thing Troy had ever seen. It winded him to see that much love in Parse’s eyes; it made his stomach hurt.

He exited the app, pulled up his conversation with Parse. _I’m gonna write on the wall in here if that’s cool with you. For a good time call Kent Parson._

Troy didn’t think he’d get much of an answer. It was dumb anyway. And Parse was busy being a hockey social butterfly. But -- _Haha fuck y u. Come back out here e its boring_

_Let’s go somewhere,_ Troy sent. Impulsive. 

Parse didn’t reply. 

Troy lingered in the bathroom a few more minutes, even though it smelled weird. He considered looking at the picture again, the one with Parse’s cat, but that was a bad idea. He went back out to the bar.

Everyone seemed happy. Ollie was making out with some girl right in the middle of everything, which PR wouldn’t like if it got back to them. Keillor and Brody were buying shots for everybody. They were all laughing, cheering. Troy found his spot by Parse, but Victor was sitting there.

“Shh, wait, I don’t wanna hear about bikes anymore,” Parse said, trying to pat Victor on the shoulder and missing. “Troy! Where do you want to go?”

Troy’s text. He was supposed to be ready to take Parse somewhere. But he hadn’t really thought about where, just somewhere quieter. He had just imagined Parse being there; the other details were kind of foggy.

“I dunno,” he said. 

“Let’s go to the pinball machine,” Parse said, like this was normal. “I’ve been eyeing it all night. Come on.” He got off the bar stool gingerly, clearly wary of stumbling in front of everyone. “Come on,” he repeated.

Troy let Parse start walking, just far enough ahead so he could stick out his foot and trip him.

“Troy! Fucking --” Parse caught himself, almost elbowing someone in the head in the process. “You suck ass. I’m gonna trip you back. Let’s _goooo._ ”

Parse sucked at pinball. It turned out that Troy sucked even worse. “How are you this bad and still beating me,” he mumbled. He couldn’t look at Parse’s high score. It was just embarrassing. 

“You’re really bad,” Parse said by way of explanation. “How are you gonna be someone’s trophy husband when you can’t even play pinball?”

“Ha.” Troy had a coffee mug that said Trophy Husband on it, a gag gift from one of his sisters. It wasn’t even that funny, but somehow it had morphed into an ongoing joke with Parse for almost a year now. “I’m so undateable, I can’t even play pinball. Woe is me, fuck my life, et cetera.”

Parse smiled, distracted by the game. He sucked in his bottom lip, nose wrinkling up a little on one side. 

“Are you gonna try to date more this year?” Troy said, out of nowhere. God. God. _God._ Kill him.

Parse’s pinball dropped. “Uh. I mean -- what?” He looked panicked. Obviously. Troy shouldn’t talk about this in a public place. Or at all, preferably. “I dunno. What do you mean?”

“I was just thinking as, like, a New Year’s resolution.” Dear god, let him just drop dead. What the fuck. “But it’s not a big deal.”

“Do you think I should?” Parse was still drunk, that had to be the only reason he was entertaining this conversation at all. He squeezed in closer to Troy so no one could overhear. They were best friends. Parse trusted him. “Date? I don’t know.”

_No,_ Troy immediately wanted to say. Because he was a dick. The idea of Parse dating someone else, getting excited and happy and sharing all the details with him, made him sick. But he couldn’t say that. _No, no,_ his mouth was really threatening to say anyway, so he waited a few more moments. 

“I don’t know,” Troy finally answered. “If you want.” 

“Hey! Five minutes and our ride is coming!” Keillor yelled, coming up out of nowhere behind Troy and wrapping him in a bear hug. “We’ll drop you off, it’s on the way.” 

Troy tried to focus on Parse still, guessing at what Parse was thinking. But Parse slid his captain mask on before Troy could get anywhere. “Good idea, dude. It’s getting late. Troy, you ready?”

_No,_ Troy wanted to say again. But Parse was right, it was getting late. They had practice to think about, and if they stayed out much longer their hangovers would be even worse. “Sure, Cap. Let’s round ‘em up.”

When Kent Parson told his team to finish their drinks and go, they listened. Troy helped Victor find his phone, Parse helped Ollie get his zipper unstuck. Keillor helped Brody stay up on his feet, and then let him fall and laughed at him.

A couple rides for guys on the other side of town were on their way. Troy and his group’s ride was here. The Las Vegas Aces were leaving the building.

Keillor got in the passenger seat, leaving Victor, Brody, Troy, and Parse to pile into the back. Troy helped Brody in, then waited for Victor to get in the car next before squeezing past Parse. He figured Parse was drunker than him and might need to open the window for air. And he didn’t want anyone else sitting by Parse when he was this drunk. Which -- he it knew was stupid. He didn’t even know where the feeling came from.

“Troy, T-Roy,” Parse mumbled. He was leaning into Troy, his blond head on Troy’s shoulder. That couldn’t be comfortable; it felt like his cheek was digging into a bony part. But he didn’t move. “Wanna crash with me? Or do you have to go water your plants?”

Troy didn’t have any plants, but that was just a joke Parse would make sometimes. “Sounds good,” he said. Of course he was coming in. Parse never took the elevator to his place up on the fourth floor, and he sucked at stairs when he was drunk. 

“Yay,” Parse said softly. 

“Get a room, Jesus,” Keillor said cheerfully. He was on his phone, probably talking to his girlfriend or checking one of his leagues. Troy felt an unfamiliar sense of paranoia -- had Keillor figured out how Troy felt? Did he think Parse was gay? Was he narrating everything to his girlfriend, and -- 

“You get a room, Keillor,” Parse said, nonsensically, and the guys laughed.

Troy breathed in, out. He did it a few times. Parse must have sensed that he was stressed about something, because he rubbed his knuckles up and down Troy’s thigh a few times, down by his knee where it was less weird. 

He wished he was like Parse. He loved how Parse was thoughtful, caring in his quiet way, using his hands more than his words. He loved how Parse didn’t mind if his friends laughed at him, as long as they were laughing. 

Distantly, he knew those same qualities were true of himself. But everything felt better when Parse did it.

The car stopped in front of Parse’s building. They got out, waited for Victor. Troy walked up with Parse. He listened patiently to some shit about public transportation and all the ways Vegas sucked at it, and Victor waved as he took the elevator up to the seventh floor.

Parse kept stopping on the stairs, distracted by his own ranting and over-tired from the game and the drinking. Troy stuck out his elbow like a gallant escort from the old days, and that seemed to help. 

When they got to Parse’s door, he fumbled for his keys for a second before suddenly hugging Troy. “Mm,” he said, which was pretty much how he explained all of his affectionate moments when he was drunk. He smelled like beer and soap, and Troy pulled him closer than he should have, instinctive and embarrassing. He hoped Parse was too out of it to notice. He hated how it felt when Parse stepped away again.

Parse struggled with the door, leaving it open so long that his cat ran out in the hall. “Troy!” he called pitifully, but he didn’t need to. Troy chased Kit down and grabbed her, stroking her head as soothingly as he could as he brought her back to Parse’s living room. 

The door finally shut, and Parse slid into Troy’s arms again. “Thanks,” he said. “You’re a dream friend.”

Troy closed his eyes and let Parse stay there. He thought about how warm Parse was. He tried not to think about anything else.


	3. February

**FEBRUARY**

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


But I can’t spell it out for you,

No, it’s never gonna be that simple… [(x)](https://open.spotify.com/track/5OGkKx8jP0A5KSULEc6XYZ)  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


Valentine’s Day was a shitty holiday, Troy thought. Too much pressure for one arbitrary day, and it was weird having a holiday that was basically defined by cliched gestures and cultural scripts. 

That was about the depth of his feelings for Valentine’s Day. Parse’s feelings, he knew, went a little bit deeper. More painful. They’d had a weird number of fights on February 14, the kind where Parse got angry out of nowhere, and Troy was pretty sure that wasn’t a coincidence. 

They were on the road, sweltering in Tampa. Media went by quickly, but they asked a couple dumb questions about the holiday. _You’re on the road on Valentine’s Day. Are you playing for anyone special tonight?_

It was bullshit. Harmless bullshit, but maybe not for Parse. Troy stayed by his side through the pre-game meetings, but even talking about how they would crush Tampa on the penalty kill didn’t seem to break through whatever was eating at Parse. 

When their morning stuff was all wrapped up, it seemed like the other guys were going their separate ways. A few were going to eat at some seafood buffet, some were eating at the hotel. Troy watched Parse: quiet in the midst of the loud group, standing like he was stuck there in his own head.

“Hey, you,” Troy said, coming up to Parse and tapping him on the back of his head. “You’re my Valentine today. Get ready to be whisked away.”

It took a couple seconds for Parse’s face to get unfrozen, but then he rolled his eyes. Which was pretty much the best sight in the world right now. “Yeah, okay. You wanna go to that buffet?”

Troy had no idea where he wanted to go, but he knew it was going to be just the two of them. Parse wasn’t himself today. He was the version of Parse who disappeared in a crowd instead of taking control of it. “Hell no. We’re goin’ somewhere special.”

He frantically searched for places with good reviews while Parse went to the bathroom, and he ended up picking some sushi place. He was pretty sure sushi was considered fancy. He didn’t know if Parse liked it, but whatever.

It was a nice walk to the restaurant, less than ten minutes and crossing the water. Troy wanted to stop and look for dolphins, and Parse laughed at him like it would never happen but started looking intently right away. They looked out for several minutes, the sun warm on their necks and arms. As far as Troy could tell there were no dolphins to be seen. But Parse seemed happier anyway, all the tension on his face eased out as he looked over the water.

Troy looked at Parse’s shoulder, where the sleeve of his t-shirt was a little rumpled, and then he looked at the water again.

“Let’s take a selfie,” Parse said. Shocker. “Turn around, water behind us.” 

Troy kept his distance, doing the whole bro thing for the picture, but Parse stepped closer, his shoulder up against Troy’s chest. “No, like this,” he said. “Valentine’s selfie. I’ll put it on my story, it’ll be funny.”

He leaned his head back against Troy, and Troy carefully wrapped one arm around him like it seemed Parse wanted. It didn’t feel very funny. 

Parse took two pictures. “I dunno. I look dumb. One more?”

“No, you look fine.” Troy let go of Parse and stepped away. He felt shaky, and he didn’t like it. “Come on, let’s eat.”

They got a table on the patio, right by the water. Parse furrowed his brow in concentration as he looked over the menu. He absently pulled his hat forward and backward on his head, and his smile transformed his face exactly like it always did when he thanked the waiter for bringing their waters. 

It was probably at least the hundredth time they’d eaten together, just the two of them, but it was the first time Troy couldn’t get that butterflies feeling out of his stomach. Like this was an actual date. He had this stupid feeling that he could reach out and cover Parse’s hand with his own, but he settled for bumping Parse’s knee under the table.

“Hey,” he said.

Parse smiled back, his eyes squinting a little from the sun. “Hey.” He stirred his water with the straw, then looked back at Troy again. “Valentine’s Day sucks.”

“Yeah.” Troy smiled at Parse, couldn’t really help it, and Parse smiled his way right into a laugh.

“You think you’re so slick, but I totally know what you’re doing,” Parse said. “You don’t need to take me out just to make me feel better. But it is nice of you.”

Troy put his menu down. “I wanted to take you out. ‘Cause you know what I have?”

Parse grinned, bigger than Troy had seen in a long time. 

“Taste,” Troy finished, and Parse laughed again.

They won their game. It was pretty hard not to when Parse played like that, and Troy waited for him in his stall after, scrolling through Reddit and looking at all the threads where people were losing their minds over how good Parse was. 

Parse was already half-drunk by the time the guys were ready to go, and Troy wasn’t exactly surprised when he fell asleep on the plane, cheek squished up against the window. It felt uncomfortable, sitting there while Parse was sleeping, uncomfortable to keep stopping himself from looking, so Troy got up and moved to the back of the plane. 

A lot of the guys were sleeping or had headphones in, and it was pretty empty all the way in the back. Troy had a missed call from his dad, so he texted to see if his dad was still up.

“Hey,” he said when his dad called a few minutes later. He tried to keep his voice down. “How’re you guys doin’?”

“We’re alright,” his dad said. “Wait, your mother and Emily are getting on the other phones. Hold on.”

Troy’s family still used their old landline most of the time, and when he called they liked to have a group conversation the old-fashioned way, using all three phones in the house. Troy waited.

“Your knee’s looking better,” his dad said once they were all settled. It was kind of a pointless comment, since it had been a year since he hurt his knee, but that was always going to be what his parents looked for first. 

“Yeah, it feels good as new,” Troy said. “Glad you got a chance to watch the game. Parse is on fire, huh?”

He could just see the top of Parse’s head, all those rows in front of him on the plane. His hair was sticking up a little. Troy wanted to be next to him, smoothing everything down. Sitting back here was a good call.

“Yeah, David was losing his shit the whole game,” Emily said over the phone. “I think he’s gonna leave me for Parse, it was too much.”

“Oh, yeah,” Troy said. His sister and her boyfriend were probably going to get engaged soon, so this was the kind of thing he needed to care about. “How was your Valentine’s Day?”

Emily talked about going out for steaks at the nicest restaurant in town, which Troy had learned since leaving Rossland wasn’t actually that nice. She talked about snowshoeing, and racing home to catch the Aces game. It sounded like a good day.

“How about you?” his mom asked. “You haven’t started dating someone, have you?” 

Troy felt the back of his neck heat up. He was glad no one could hear their conversation, mostly because it would have been hard to miss how his eyes darted immediately to where Parse was sitting. “No, come on,” he said. His heart was beating too loudly. “I just did hockey stuff. Went out with Parse before the game.”

“Oh,” his mom said. Her voice went up several octaves. 

“Went out?” asked his dad. “Oh, okay. Do you mean…?”

“Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no.” Troy rubbed a hand over his forehead. “Come on. No. Not yet.”

“Not _yet_?” his sister screeched, and Troy couldn’t even blame her. Why the fuck had he said that?

Because he felt bad just saying no that many times, when it was about Parse. Because, deep down, he wanted his family to know.

“Again?” his mom said. “Nate, not another teammate. Nate.”

Emily cleared her throat. “Well, that’s cool. You went out? What did you do?”

“Went out for sushi. You know, nothing exciting. Calm down.”

His dad spoke up. His voice was warm, the way Troy always remembered it when he was lonely and needed to think about being home, being a kid. “Everything’s okay, Nate. We just want to see you be happy. No sense in getting hurt again, eh?”

Troy closed his eyes. He was getting tired, and his eyelids felt kind of sticky. Things blurred when he opened his eyes again. “Yeah. Thanks. It’s fine, it’s not -- “ He couldn’t say not important. Not big. “Not going to be like last time. Or the other time.” He laughed weakly.

“You’re the best, Nate,” Emily said. Even though the phone line, there was no mistaking the love in her voice. Troy’s throat felt painful and tight out of nowhere. “And you looked awesome tonight. Seriously.” 

“Thanks, girl.” Troy looked at the back of Parse’s head again. It was painful now, like it hadn’t been before. “I’m getting really tired, though. Probably need to be getting to sleep now. Everything else good with you guys?”

“Of course,” his mom said. “Love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you,” his sister and dad echoed. 

“I love all you guys,” Troy said. “Happy Valentine’s Day. Wish I could be there with you.”

When he crept back up to his spot next to Parse, everyone was sleeping. Troy eased into his seat and reclined it. He couldn’t stop himself from looking over at Parse again, tracking the up and down of his breath, but it seemed like Parse hadn’t registered his arrival. 

Troy closed his eyes. He could tell he was going to drift off soon. It was probably futile, but he prayed that he’d dream of anything but Parse tonight.


	4. March

**MARCH**

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


Didn’t I see you cryin’,

Feelin’ all alone without a friend… [(x)](https://open.spotify.com/track/6TBJCwgdhwkzjpSjdqJUHC)  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


Home games around St. Patrick’s Day were always a nightmare. Not so much the game itself -- Troy much preferred playing for a drunk Vegas crowd than a drunk crowd who hated his team -- but because he always managed to get suckered into going out on the Strip with the guys afterward.

They were on their second bar, and Keillor was already slurring his words. Parse didn’t look much better, even if he knew how to hide it from everyone who wasn’t Troy. He was yelling along with the girl doing karaoke at the front of the bar, grabbing onto Troy’s sleeve like he wanted him to join in.

“Hey, another water over here!” Troy yelled after Victor, who was making his way up to the bar again. Victor flashed a thumbs-up back at them.

“I’m gonna get laid tonight,” Joey yelled over the music. “If you see a hot girl who looks like she’ll have low standards, tag me.”

Brody leaned closer. “Good luck, man. I’ll try and help, but if you’re still coming up empty by three, I’m out.”

“Aw, come on, man,” Troy said. “Give him more than a couple hours. Look at him, this’ll take some time.”

“Hey, she likes me,” Joey said. He pointed at a girl across the bar who had her back to them.

“She’s not even looking.”

“She looked at me a second ago. She -- you missed it.”

Troy glanced at Parse. He was still focused on the karaoke, singing along like he was in a different world. “Bro, really?” he said. “Can’t we all just, like, decide as a society that we’re not going to sing Shania Twain at karaoke bars? So cliche it hurts.”

Parse treated him to an angry glare before he went back to singing. 

“Seriously, Parse?” Joey grabbed his shoulder. “If you stop singing this lame-ass song for, like, ten seconds, I bet we can find a girl for you, too.”

“ _Too_?” Ollie cut in. “You mean, like, in addition to the girl that you already don’t have for yourself? Sure, Joey.”

Ollie was one of the few guys on the team who knew Parse was gay. Him and Victor were the only ones, at least as far as Troy knew, so he figured Ollie might be trying to change the subject for Parse. But Joey didn’t seem like he was going to be distracted from his new mission, even by insults. 

“Rude, but point taken, Olls,” Joey said magnanimously. “But look at how Parse is way cuter than me. Observe. He can pick up tonight, easy. Pick a girl, Parse, let’s make it happen.”

Troy knew Parse didn’t really like it when people tried to run interference for him; he liked being the one who chose what kind of deflection to employ. But Troy couldn’t really control his mouth when he was panicking. “God, what’s taking Victor so long with the drinks? I’m gonna die of thirst before he gets back here.”

“There’s a line, man,” Parse said. He still looked distracted by the music, but Troy figured that was an act at this point. “I dunno, maybe -- hey, shit, don’t turn around. That girl looked at you again.”

Joey spun around dramatically. “Fuck! Okay, okay. Nice. I’m going over.”

“Jesus, dude, I literally said don’t -- “ Parse sighed. “Fine. But you’re doing this all wrong.”

They watched Joey push his way through the crowd. “Ah, young love,” Brody said fondly. “It happens so fast.”

“About time he settled down,” Keillor said. “Oh, fuck. I miss Riley. Why are we out here again?”

“To celebrate and shit.” Brody patted Keillor on the back. “Damn, you’re going soft. Do you need to get home? Have some board games to play with Riley?”

“Fuck you, you’re married,” Keillor mumbled. “Hey, Parse, seriously. I recommend a love life, you should try it. I think this is gonna be your year, the year you put yourself out there. In a less gross way than Joey said. Want any help? Riley has some single friends. Wife material. If you want help.”

“Dude, I am telling Riley every word of this,” Parse said. “You are on another level right now.”

Keillor rubbed his face. “Whatever. I miss her.”

“I’ll order a ride for you, dude,” Troy said. He patted Keillor on the back and got the ride set up on his phone. By the time the car was ready, Brody had decided to pile in with Keillor too, and Joey was nowhere to be seen. 

“Did Joey actually get somewhere with that girl?” Troy said, nudging Parse. “What the fuck?”

Parse glanced up at him, rolling his eyes a little. Troy caught his breath. They weren’t alone; Ollie was right there. But it was in moments like these where Troy couldn’t hold back his imagination. He wanted to be alone with Parse in a loud, crowded bar, to pull him closer by a belt loop, to lean in until he could see something change on Parse’s face. 

A lot would have to be different for that to happen. A lot.

“Where’d they all go?” Victor asked. He was there with their drinks. Troy took his beer, slid a water cup into Parse’s hands. 

“Home. Except Joey, he’s probably naked in a backseat somewhere,” Ollie supplied.

“Things I didn’t want to know for $500,” Victor said, barely audible over the music. “Here, Olls, take your drink.”

“Thank God you’re back,” Ollie said. He drank almost half his beer in one go. “Keillor was trying to find Parse a wife.”

“Good luck with that,” Victor said, deadpan as always.

Parse grimaced at his water and looked around for someone’s drink to steal. Troy already knew it would be his. “Ha, ha,” Parse said drily. “Are you guys gonna do a song, or what? Why else’d we come to a karaoke place?”

Victor was never up for karaoke, not even when he was drunk, and Troy didn’t really dig the idea of embarrassing himself in front of a large audience with cell phones either. He waved off Parse and Ollie while they went to sign up, and by the time they came back he was ready to change the topic completely. 

“Anyone up for a trip around Europe this summer?” he yelled, grabbing Parse and pulling him close enough to actually hear. “I wanna go to Greece.”

He didn’t want the other guys to try and be allies or whatever, to ask Parse what his type actually was. Parse never talked about that shit. He’d even gone out with a few dudes here and there who Ollie and Victor had set him up with, but he never talked about it after the fact.

Troy knew the answer, though. He’d seen some of the guys Parse had chosen for himself. His type was tall, athletic, dark hair. Kind of like Jack Zimmermann. Kind of like Troy.

Like Troy, but not as good. Probably.

He invited himself along in the same car with Victor and Parse at the end of the night. Victor looked at him a little funny, which was fair. Troy lived in the opposite direction. But he had a feeling it had been a tougher night than Parse had let on, and he wanted to be there to make sure Parse didn’t go home and just drink some more. Or call an ex. Or just have no one to talk to, if that was what he needed.

Parse buried his nose in his phone and didn’t look at Troy the whole way back, so his efforts were definitely noticed. Parse didn’t always like it when someone cared about him. Troy was fine with that.

“I’m good,” Parse said as soon as Troy had followed him up to his door and Victor was out of sight. “You don’t have to come in.”

“Don’t be mean,” Troy said. “Of course I’m coming in, I’m sleeping here tonight. And it’s not like I’m going to talk about anything you don’t want to talk about.”

Parse flashed him an angry look, because it took some real audacity to even acknowledge that Parse was too messed up to even talk about certain subjects. “Fine, come in. You want another drink?”

“Sure.” Whatever. If there was any night to drink too much, this was it. “Let me make something. All you know how to do is margaritas.”

“I like margaritas,” Parse said, but he acquiesced the alcohol cabinet to Troy.

Troy made a couple old-fashioneds, and Parse quietly set out some chips and guac. He looked tired, Troy thought. He brought the drinks to the table, and tossed a blanket Parse’s way. “Sit,” he said.

Parse rolled his eyes, but he sat next to Troy and pulled the blanket up around him. Shit, that was the kind of thing that made Troy’s stomach jump. It would be cool to be the guy who saw Parse asleep under a blanket every morning. It would be nice.

“Eat,” Parse said, gesturing at the food. Troy rolled his eyes, mimicking Parse’s way of doing it as much as possible, and grabbed a chip.

They ate together for several minutes, nothing but the sound of crunching and Parse’s occasional cough breaking the silence. 

“So. Anything you wanna talk about?” Troy finally asked.

Parse swallowed his food. “Uh, why didn’t you sing with us? It must have been lame just standing there watching.”

“If I sing, who’s gonna film you?”

Parse laughed, tucking his chin down toward his chest a little. He slumped closer to Troy, warm and tired. “Shit. You gotta send that to me. And no one else.”

“I already sent it to your sister,” Troy said. “But yeah, you can have it.”

Parse smiled. When he fell asleep, his drink was still half-full. Troy took the rest.


	5. April

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually would love to NOT be updating this only once a month, but what can you do. Hopefully I can kick things into gear and get two chapters in next month. And now, enjoy your monthly dose of pining! :)

**APRIL**

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


You were blind,

And now you regret it…. [(x)](https://open.spotify.com/track/5Eq0mobXSnyWu1dpE6lSdY)  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


It rained on Troy’s birthday. Probably the only day the whole month it was going to rain in Las Vegas, so of course it happened on his birthday. Not really a big deal, though, at least not to him. The only plans he’d had were to go hiking with Parse and get home in time to video call his family, which was bound to be a total clusterfuck of technological confusion. It didn’t seem that hard to reschedule hiking plans for a day that would be less muddy.

It shouldn’t be that hard, but Parse showed up at Troy’s door at eleven-thirty that morning, right on time. He had a gift bag in one hand, and his hair was dripping wet.

“Parse?” Troy said, dumbstruck more than anything. “What are -- did you notice the rain?”

“Yeah, smartass.” Parse swung the bag forward, lightly knocking it against Troy’s front. “Happy birthday. Like I’m just gonna hang out with my cat when it’s your birthday?”

Troy let Parse in. He let Parse hug him, even though it got water on his clothes. Up close, Parse’s skin was dewy, and Troy could see raindrops still caught in his eyebrows. “Thanks, man,” he said. 

He opened the gift a few minutes later, once Parse had dried off and was settled in with a mimosa. There were a few things in the bag, all technology-related and all, presumably, expensive. “Parse,” he said. He couldn’t tell if he was more exasperated or fond. “When I said I didn’t know shit about technology, I meant that I was too scared to learn. Are you trying to kill me?”

“I’ll teach you,” Parse said. “Anyway, a grown man shouldn’t be afraid of Bluetooth speakers.”

Troy laughed it off, even though just hearing the word Bluetooth sent a chill down his spine. 

They hung out in the living room, drinking and doing a puzzle that Parse definitely didn’t want to be working on. “Why do you have a fucking black puzzle?” Parse asked for about the hundredth time. “Black. All black. What the fuck.”

“I got it at an art museum,” Troy explained yet again. It sounded stupider each time. “It’s art, kind of.”

“Art,” Parse snorted. “Hey! It stopped raining.”

Parse dragged Troy outdoors, away from the puzzle. They still couldn’t go hiking, since the trails would be wet and possibly dangerous after the rain, but they brought their drinks to Troy’s backyard. Parse brought the new speakers and quickly got them set up, playing oldies that weren’t his taste in music at all. Troy was actually kind of touched by the gesture.

“I’m gonna grill for us,” Parse said, clearly accepting no argument. “You go work on your tan, birthday boy.”

Troy brought his drink over to the pool and toweled the remaining rainwater off of a deck chair so he could sit. He watched Parse working the grill for a few minutes. He hesitated, but he finally took off his shirt. Parse had said to work on his tan, and it wasn’t like they hadn’t been in the same locker room for years together at this point. Or hung out by the pool before with their friends.

It just felt weird, a little. Because they were alone. And maybe because Troy was a sheltered small-town kid, which he was probably never going to completely shake.

“Be ready in a few minutes,” Parse yelled. Troy shut his eyes and basically melted into his chair, just enjoying the warm sun, the good music, and the smell of Parse grilling for him. It was a great birthday, all things considered. 

He didn’t drift off, exactly, but he was sort of floating in his skin by the time Parse came over and tapped him on the shoulder. “Lunch is served, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Just resting my eyes,” Troy mumbled. He accepted the plate from Parse. “Thank you, fuck. This looks so good.” 

“Yeah, I do know how to grill, I just never get the chance. Fuckin’ Brody.”

“Grill hog Brody,” Troy agreed. He took a huge bite, and holy shit. “Parse. Marry me.”

Parse leaned over and tousled his hair. “Okay, dude. But just because it’s your birthday. How old are you now anyway? Forty?”

“Skate pretty fast for my age, eh?”

Parse snickered. He sat down on the arm of Troy’s chair and rested his elbow on Troy’s shoulder. “Well, happy birthday, man. Did you get everything you wanted?”

Troy felt a weird little flip in his stomach, and he found himself saying, “Yeah, almost. Say something nice to me.”

Parse’s fingers tensed up against his shoulder. “Uh,” he said. “Fine. Just because it’s your birthday --” He scrubbed a hand across his face, already turning red. 

Troy waited, all shivery and breathless like he was waiting for a miracle or something.

“Fine,” Parse said again. “So, you know, you’re that person in my life. Who, like, if you disappeared, you’d leave the biggest hole behind. Compared to everyone else.”

“Jeez,” Troy said, the word kind of kicked out of him. “Parse.”

“Yeah, okay, now I’m going swimming. Gotta get away from this conversation.” Parse smiled at him again, messed up Troy’s hair a little more. “Finish your steak, you old geezer.”

Parse peeled off his clothes and jumped into the water wearing just his boxers. Troy watched him and forgot to eat his steak. _I think about you too much,_ he thought. _I think about you more than hockey._

Parse swam a lap and paddled over to the pink donut floatie in the middle of the pool. It had been a gag gift, Troy couldn’t even remember who from. Parse hooked an arm through the center and looked at Troy. He stuck out his tongue, and Troy didn’t think he could take much more of this.

*********

He left the locker room the next day at the end of practice, same as always. It was too normal for him to even remember what he’d been thinking about right before it happened. One second he was walking down the hall with all his stuff, the next second he was being redirected to an office. Table and chairs. The team’s GM.

Troy walked out of the meeting with a plane ticket to Ohio. Someone on staff was driving him to the airport, he didn’t catch her name. He was supposed to call someone, a teammate or someone who could help pack up his house.

The only person he could think of was Parse. He didn’t want to call Parse right now. It was too emotional, and he might actually puke in the car if he talked to Parse right now.

_Hey I’m being shipped off to the jays. Going to airport now. Would you do me a big favor and get some of the guys to pack up my stuff this week? I didn’t get to go home first sorry._ Troy pushed send.

He didn’t get a reply until the car was pulling into the airport.

_Holy shit! Yeah man of course. That fucking sucks, we’ll miss you. Just send an address when you have one, we’ll take care of it._

Troy exhaled slowly. He still kind of felt like puking. Everything was becoming real, slowly, like floating to the top of a lake, and he wanted to go back under. _Thanks Keillor._

He considered asking Keillor not to tell Parse, but that would raise some serious questions. And it would mean Troy would have to tell Parse himself, quickly, before the news started to spread. 

Troy knew he should, but he didn’t. He walked through the airport, feeling more and more self-conscious with every step. He’d never been traded. It was hard to guess how this story was going to be spun. Did Vegas successfully drop a deadweight? Did Columbus pick up an asset? His stomach hurt.

Finally, he was on the plane. He had some time before takeoff. There was his phone, right on his lap. It was time to tell Parse. No more excuses, probably not another chance to do it himself before word got to him through someone else.

Troy opened up his chat history with Parse. His finger rested on the screen. What was he going to say? _Bad news, man?_ He didn’t know when he was going to see Parse again. Just thinking about it now was a risk, and he didn’t need strangers to see him cry on an airplane.

He put his phone on airplane mode and stuck it in his pocket. The shame sat like a rock in his stomach, but the decision was made. One more instance in his life where he took the coward’s way out.

*********

It was hard to settle in. Troy wanted stability, routine. He spent every second now with this sense of dread that he would be traded again. Maybe in a few months, maybe in a year. Once you stopped being a franchise face it could just happen over and over. 

He got his stuff, all packed up in moving boxes more neatly than he would have ever guessed the guys were capable of. They’d even thrown in a couple new crossword puzzle books, a bag of his favorite candy, and a huge poster of Joey. Signed. Troy put it on his wall and took a picture.

Over the first week, the Vegas guys texted him a bunch, called him a little, and harassed him on social media incessantly. The only text he kept coming back to was from Parse. _Hope you’re settling in okay man._ It was so formal, cold and distant in a way that didn’t feel like their friendship at all. Troy didn’t know what to say back.

_It’s hard,_ he sent back a full twenty-four hours after receiving Parse’s text. _I miss you guys. Sorry I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye._

He didn’t know if he should apologize for not texting Parse at all before now. Probably, but then he wouldn’t know how to explain it without exposing too much.

Parse responded later that night, when Troy was already lying in bed with the lights off, not even close to falling asleep. He lunged for his phone. _That’s okay *thumbs up emoji*_

Troy let the phone drop back down. He felt empty. Everything was ripped away at once, and in some way it was probably all his fault. If he’d been a little better at hockey. If he’d been a little braver with Parse. 

He was always more emotional at night, and sometimes that was enough to make him brave. _Are you mad at me that I didn’t tell you before leaving? Because I messed up doing that. I’m really sorry._

Parse didn’t reply, but Troy could see that he had seen the message. He waited, but Parse didn’t seem like he was going to be saying anything back tonight.

Troy itched to say more, to pour everything out and make sure he could repair whatever damage had already been done, but he stopped himself. He didn’t actually know what Parse was thinking right now. For all Troy knew, Parse might have already decided to let their friendship go and focus on people who were still in Vegas. 

_Parse wouldn’t do that,_ Troy told himself, not sure if he believed it. He just wanted Parse to text him back. But that obviously wasn’t happening tonight, and for once Troy had no idea if he could count on Parse tomorrow.

Troy double-checked his alarms for the next morning and settled in for a long night of very little sleep.


	6. May

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely wanted to start posting faster, not slower, so that's my bad. But they're back! Enjoy :)

**MAY**

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


Oh, oh, oh,

I wish I could feel your face…. [(x)](https://open.spotify.com/track/6A8dnC0xkiuWN4BshmTB2I?si=aUibAmTSROKX_d_Px0JRJA)  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


May found Troy back at his parents’ place in Rossland. He hiked, went biking for hours at a time, and tagged along with his high school friends on the golf course, and always made sure he was always very busy when his parents were watching the playoffs.

His new team was out. The Aces were out. Troy didn’t give a shit who won, and he didn’t like being around it.

The old Aces group chat had been pretty quiet all week. Troy knew they used a different chat now primarily, one that only included guys who were actually on the team. He wasn’t frozen out, not exactly, but if he didn’t put in the effort to maintain friendships they were going to disappear.

He took a picture of the view from his bike. _Another day in paradise,_ he sent the Aces chat. After a few minutes, he sent it to the Blue Jackets chat too.

_FLEX_ , Brody sent back a few minutes later. He attached a picture of his dirty laundry room. _My paradise. Cleaning day. RIP._

Troy watched as some of the other guys rolled into the conversation, roasting Brody for being stuck inside in his laundry room from hell. He thought about riding his bike more, but he didn’t want to miss it if Parse joined in.

It took fifteen minutes, but -- 

_Nice view Troy. Brodes we all know you live in filth this isn’t new_.

Troy didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, but he knew that this wasn’t it. It was a perfect day outside, warm and a little breezy, but he didn’t want to finish the bike ride. He turned around and started back for his parents’ house, slow enough that he could focus on how shitty he felt instead of the path in front of him.

By the time Troy rolled up to his parents’ garage, he was officially in a bad mood. He usually worked on a bad mood in one of three ways: hanging out with Parse, going for a bike ride, or doing some manual labor.

He couldn’t hang out with Parse -- it seemed like Parse didn’t even want to talk to him. The bike ride he’d just finished hadn’t done the trick. So Troy mowed the front lawn, then asked his parents what they needed help with once it was clear his mood wasn’t all that much better.

Apparently there was a tree stump from when his dad had chopped down a dying tree that spring. Troy attacked it with a chainsaw for a little while. He kept going until he felt better and the stump was almost even with the ground, so that was a two-part victory, really.

A quick shower later, Troy gave in and checked his phone again. There wasn’t anything else from Parse, which wasn’t really surprising. But some guys on his new team had responded to his text, and that was something. 

Timmy Noonan, who was pretty much the only forward who had breached the defense clique Troy found himself in Ohio, had texted him, _Wow! So outdoorsy!_

Troy rolled his eyes. The other guys might not know that Noonan was baiting him a little, but he sent a middle finger emoji in the chat anyway. 

Noonan knew this guy who he thought would be good with Troy or something, and Troy hadn’t been able to get him to shut up about it for the past two weeks. He’d even let Noonan show him the guy’s dating profile, and Noonan apparently thought it was absolutely hilarious when Troy’s reason for passing on him was that the guy was “too outdoorsy.” 

“You’re outdoorsy,” Noonan had said, in between fits of laughter, but Troy didn’t know how to explain it beyond that.

He thought about Parse. Parse was only outdoorsy in the sense that he liked to hang out by the pool, and maybe walk from one bar to the next, if that counted. He couldn’t get an image out of his mind, something he wasn’t even sure was a real memory: Parse in Troy’s old pool, with just his eyes and nose above water, watching him. 

Maybe that was why he hadn’t felt totally comfortable since the trade. It had been a long time since Parse had looked at him at all.

That image stayed with him. Cleaning up, eating dinner, working on a puzzle with his parents -- it was all something of a blur. It was hard to focus when he just kept coming back to Parse’s eyes. To the cowlick in his hair. 

Troy went upstairs for bed, and he took a bottle of wine with him. 

He had his phone out not long later. It probably wasn’t a drunk dial, not yet, because he wasn’t even that drunk. 

“Hey,” Parse said, after the phone had been ringing long enough that Troy had basically given up. “Uh, ‘sup, Troy? How’re you doing?”

Troy tried to take a really fast sip of wine, but he choked on it a little. It took a minute to stop coughing. “I’m -- I’m good! Well, kind of. I miss you.”

“What -- sure, sure. Miss you too, man.” 

Troy had fucking missed that voice. He’d really only heard it once since the trade, on a FaceTime call with Victor while Victor was at the club gym.

This was so much better.

“Dude, what’s up? Are you just hanging with Purrs? Did you learn to knit her a sweater yet?” Troy felt nervous. He was probably saying dumb shit, but he couldn’t really stop. “Make it blue, that’s, like, her color.”

“I’m doin’ it plaid. Aces colors.” Parse laughed. Troy poured himself another drink just to get over that sound. “What about you? Are you biking all the way back to the States?”

Troy laughed. “Nah, I got tired. Back at my parents’ house now.” 

There was a lull in the conversation. Troy looked out the window. It was getting dark. He liked that it was the same time in Vegas as it was here. Kind of like Parse was with him. 

“You should come up here sometime,” he finally said. “I’ll take you on the mountain trails. What do you think?” 

Parse laughed, or something like that. Troy wasn’t sure what the sound was. “Sounds good, Troy.”

“Sure. You know how to ride a bike, right?” Troy wanted to ask it as seriously as he could, but he messed it up and was snickering by the end of the question. 

“Yeah, I think I can manage,” Parse said drily.

“No training wheels?”

Parse sounded like he was smiling. “That’s enough out of you for one night. God, I -- are you drinking? You’re drinking, right?”

He didn’t sound judgmental, but Troy still felt weird about it. They hadn’t talked in a long time. He didn’t know what to expect. “Just a little. How about you?” 

“No, I’m looking for a new show to watch. And no, I’m not gonna watch Bones, I’m aware that you only like one show.” Parse paused, and Troy waited. He obviously wanted to say something. “Okay, so, how about I call you back tomorrow? We haven’t talked in a while. It would be cool to do it when we’re both totally awake. And not drunk.”

“Yeah, okay,” Troy said. His pulse thudded in his ears. “Tomorrow.”

“Maybe in the morning? Like eleven? I’ll video call you.”

Troy agreed. He said something, he agreed, and the phone was hung up. He wasn’t really sure by whom. 

The next morning wasn’t much better, at least in terms of clarity. It started out raining, and Troy was terrified that his family was going to be stuck indoors where they might be able to hear his conversation with Parse, but the rain stopped by ten and his parents were out the door, something about the church picnic not being cancelled, thank _goodness_.

Troy paced the house, anxious and slightly erratic. He thought the call would be okay if he could just guess what Parse wanted to talk to him about. Obviously Parse wanted to talk to him about something specific, or he wouldn’t have rescheduled for a non-alcoholic setting. 

Or maybe that wasn’t it at all. Maybe Parse had been tired last night, or not in a good mood.

Maybe he wanted to talk to Troy about -- cutting off ties. Or that he was in love with Troy. Or that there was some kind of serious health problem with Parse or his family.

Troy took the Trophy Husband mug out of the dishwasher and filled it up with decaf coffee. It would be a nice little signal that he was still Parse’s friend, no matter what. He brought his laptop to the table and tried to find a good spot to set the mug so Parse would be able to see it but where it wouldn’t be way too obvious that Troy was displaying it on purpose. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have it out at all. 

Before he could work himself up any further, Parse was calling. 

“Hey,” Troy said.

“Oh, hey, what’s up,” Parse said, sounding dumb as hell, and Troy immediately relaxed. He let Parse chat about what he’d done that morning, the conversation Parse had with his mom yesterday, the recipe he was nervous about trying. “But yeah, so…. I also kind of wanted to talk to you about, uh. Us?”

Troy’s heart skipped a beat. The phone felt too heavy in his hand.

“Like, about our friendship. ‘Cause, like, you obviously have noticed that I haven’t really been talking to you much. It really pissed me off when you didn’t even tell me you were leaving. That’s not cool, that’s not what friends do.”

“I’m sorry,” Troy said, and he didn’t know what to say beyond that. His chest hurt. “You’re right, I really fucked up. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Fuck,” Parse said. “Sorry. Let me start again. I -- okay, I guess I wasn’t really pissed off. I was more, like, hurt. Because when you do something like that, Troy, you’re basically telling me you don’t care enough to say goodbye.” 

“I --”

Parse cut him off. “And, like, right after I literally told you how much shittier my life would be without you compared to everyone else? How am I supposed to take that? Like, clearly you don’t feel the same way.”

“Yes, I do,” Troy cut in. That, at least, was easy to say. “I was such an idiot to leave without talking to you, but it wasn’t like that. Don’t even think that, Parse.”

“You know how I feel about friends doing shit like that,” Parse said, and Troy wasn’t stupid enough to believe that Parse was as calm as he sounded.

“Hey, come on, buddy, no,” Troy said. “I made a bad call. A really fucking bad call. I just -- you know, I just didn’t think I could say goodbye without getting emotional. I didn’t want to deal with it. But it was a shitty thing to do. I wish I could take it back.”

“Okay,” Parse said, quiet.

Troy ran a hand through his hair. “And I need you to forgive me, or give me a second chance, or something. Because it sucks ass being out here and not knowing if we’re still good, you know? You’re still my best friend, Parse.”

“Fuck you, Troy, I can’t stay mad at you.” Parse laughed, but it still sounded too quiet. “Sure. Just promise you’ll give me a call if you move to Peru or end up in the hospital or something, alright?”

Troy winced. He knew too much about Parse to miss what this was sort of about. “Yeah, I promise. I’ll be the best friend you ever had. You’re gonna get sick of hearing from me every day, I guarantee it.”

Parse laughed. This time it sounded almost normal. “Yeah, I’m already fucking sick of hearing from you. Anyway, can you tell me what the hell is going on with your team’s defense? Are they recruiting straight from beer leagues now, or what?”

“Go ahead and kiss my ass, Parse,” Troy said, and he didn’t realize until he started laughing how long it had really been since he’d felt happy.


	7. June

**JUNE**

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


Right away, I knew I liked you,

You seemed so cool, I didn’t even have to try to…. [(x)](https://open.spotify.com/track/6cImbJrTosUToWyCUz96xr?si=RmYAtbQKTtCKC9LASN6eSQ)  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


Troy felt like he was shirking his civic duty. Or maybe that he was failing in his responsibility to society. Something like that.

No matter how he looked at it, it was definitely a bad move to fly into Vegas with a crew of three Columbus hockey players and clear intentions of introducing them to his friends from his old team. He would probably be liable for any damages that would come out of this.

He voiced his concern to Noonan as they waited for Parse to pick them up from the airport.

“Damn, Troy, it’s not like we’re gonna do any property damage,” Noonan said. “Are we just animals to you?”

Troy was more worried about noise complaints. And maybe the night ending with someone getting their stomach pumped. “There’s Parse now. Damn, how many cars does he need?”

Parse pulled up in a long, green car that Troy hadn’t seen him in before, some kind of vintage thing. Troy didn’t know shit about cars, but he knew that he really liked this one, and that it didn’t have all that much in common with the sports cars that Parse generally liked to drive. “Howdy, boys,” Parse said, leaning out of the driver’s side. “I’d pop the trunk, but I don’t have one. How was the flight?”

Troy bumped Parse on the shoulder as he claimed his rightful spot in the passenger seat, and he let his Columbus guys take charge of the conversation and get acquainted with Parse. It took a few minutes of looking out the window to realize that something wasn’t right. “We’re not going the right way.”

“Hmm?”

“Parse.” Troy turned to look at him. “Unless you found a new place. Where are we going?”

Parse grinned, completely unrepentant. “Brody rented out a suite for us to party in. Wait’ll you see it.”

Troy ignored the excitement he heard from the backseat. “A suite where?”

Parse raised an eyebrow, smiling.

“Oh, god. No.” Troy hated the Strip. “Can’t I just have a quiet night in? I just want some tea and to learn to crochet.”

The other guys were already half-drunk by the time Troy’s group arrived. Troy had been kind of nervous that this whole thing would blow up into an actual party, but it looked like it really would just be the smaller group of guys he was closest with. Anyway, Joey was in his boxers trying to replicate the Kim Kardashian champagne glass photo, so this probably qualified as an invitation-only event.

Troy hadn’t exactly known whether his new guys would mesh well with his old guys, but it took less than five minutes for Louis to take his rightful place behind the bar. “Don’t take more than one drink from him,” he advised Parse, mostly serious. Louis mixed a deceptively strong drink, even by a pro athlete’s standards.

“Oh, really? What’s gonna happen if I do?” Parse countered, smirking, and shit. Troy should have known that Parse would take that as a challenge. He looked away, because Parse was dangerous to look at when he was acting like this under normal circumstances. Troy really didn’t know if he could trust himself after being away from him this long. 

He flinched when Joey’s champagne glass fell, shattering on the floor. “Hey, I’m not stopping you. Just giving you some wisdom.” He waved Parse off, that whole situation being a total lost cause, and swept up the glass before anyone else could try. 

Things got a little out of hand from there, with at least three different songs being loudly screamed from different sections of the party. Parse was standing on a table, as if that would make his Britney lyrics louder somehow. Victor, who was normally the most straight-laced out of all of them, was swinging his shirt over his head as he yelled along to Led Zeppelin. 

Troy sat next to Louis behind the bar. Louis had a half-empty drink on the counter in front of him and was playing Angry Birds on his phone. 

“Fun party,” Louis said.

“Can I have another rum and coke?”

Louis made a disapproving noise through his teeth. “Boring,” he said, but he tucked his phone away and made the drink.

Everything that goes up must come down, and the guys weren’t getting any younger. Soon enough they were drinking water and sprawled out around the huge TV. Parse wanted to watch reruns of Cheers, but he was pretty unanimously vetoed in favor of the entry draft.

“You guys actually watch the draft?” Parse muttered, crossing his arms. “Boring.”

“Some people actually want to know who’ll be playing for their team,” Keillor said drily. “Anyway, you just think it’s boring because you already achieved the pinnacle of the draft experience. Fucking first pick. Drink your water.”

Parse flipped Keillor off, then walked off. Troy could hear him in the kitchen to rattle around in the freezer. 

Troy heard Parse getting more ice cubes, so he took the opportunity to throw a pillow at Keillor’s head. “Bro, get some tact,” he hissed. “You know it wasn’t all good.” Which was a goddamn understatement. 

Keillor blinked, then looked back toward the kitchen. “Parse, get me some ice too! Hey, do you guys wanna turn this off and play a game? They have Uno here….”

“Hell no,” Noonan said. He wasn’t always great with subtlety. “Let’s see who goes first this year. Anyone wanna put some money on their pick?”

“Get your own ice, freeloader,” Parse said, sticking his head back in the room. His cheeks were flushed. “I need some fresh air after all those drinks, I’ll be back in a few.”

Troy watched Keillor and Brody exchange concerned looks. He got up. “I’ll go check on that.”

The hallway was empty, but Troy figured he knew what Parse’s trajectory would be. He took the elevator down to the parking level and caught a glimpse of the back of Parse’s head as he walked toward his car.

Troy didn’t know what to say, but Parse turned to look back before he had to figure it out. He watched Parse slow down for a moment. “Are you gonna wait for me?” Troy called, trying not to let his voice carry too far. Just in case.

Parse shrugged him off and kept walking. He was too close to his car already for Troy to bother running after him, but when Parse climbed in the driver’s seat and shut the door, he didn’t start the engine. 

He didn’t look up as Troy opened the passenger door. “I’m fine,” he said, rubbing one thumb along the steering wheel. “Don’t be an idiot.”

“Sure.” Troy sat down. “Turn on the air, will you? It’s hot in here.”

Parse sighed, as if Troy were the one being too dramatic, but he turned the key and got the AC running. They sat in silence. Troy wasn’t sure who was supposed to say something first.

“I missed you,” he said after a minute. He felt kind of stupid saying it, but he wanted to do something to take that haunted look off Parse’s face. “Like, a lot.” 

Parse grabbed a hat off the floor and shoved it down on his head. “Sorry I was -- I don’t know. Sorry I’m doing this. You should be up there having a good time.”

“I’d rather hang out with you,” Troy said. He tried to sound matter-of-fact. He tried not to sound how he actually felt, which was way too intense for any friendship. “You hate the draft.”

It was the closest Parse would probably let him get to acknowledging whatever feelings brought him here. Troy could only guess, but considering how much effort Parse usually put in to appear effortlessly chill, he figured Parse was pretty fucked up right now. 

“Still,” Parse said after a longer pause, “I kind of wanted you to have a good time. Haven’t seen you in a while.” 

“Then let’s have a good time,” Troy said. He was more than happy to keep sitting in the car with Parse, but not if Parse was going to be all guilty about it. “Take me somewhere.” 

Parse looked at him, and Troy’s mouth went dry.

“Yeah, okay,” Parse said. “I got some ideas.” And he put the car in drive. 

It took around fifteen minutes to get there, and then it was just a shitty bar where the stuffing was bursting out of the stools and Dolly Parton was playing too loud. “This is perfect,” Troy told Parse as they found their seats, and Parse gave him a small smile. 

“I’d better text the other guys,” Troy said as they looked at the laminated menus, but he didn’t text them. Parse nudged their knees together and pointed out the best deal.

By the time their beers arrived, Parse was quiet again. Troy let him be, pretended that he was interested in the golf tournament on the tiny screen behind the bar, even though Parse definitely knew he hated that shit.

They sat in silence, and Parse finished his beer quickly and ordered another one while Troy was still nursing his first. Finally, when Parse had drained half of his second one, he coughed and turned halfway toward Troy.

“It just sucks,” he said, pitching his voice lower so no one could potentially overhear. “That this day, that’s, like, fun for everyone -- it’s just a reminder of when my friend almost died. And then, you know, wasn’t around.” 

Troy didn’t think Parse would really want him to hug him out here in public, so he kept his hands on the table, even though everything in him wanted to reach out. “I know. And you guys were just kids. And with, like, the media all over you. It’s okay to feel shitty about it still.”

“Yeah.”

“You guys still talk?” Troy didn’t think they did, but Parse rarely seemed this open to talking about it and he wanted to keep the conversation going while he could.

Parse drew a line down the condensation on his glass. “No.”

Troy watched the TV carefully. “Do you want to?”

“Ugh.” Parse scrubbed a hand roughly through his hair. “I used to. I used to always -- try. But I guess I’ve run out of things I want to say to him.”

“Some friends are there for life.” Troy took another drink of his beer. “Some aren’t.”

Parse smiled, but it wasn’t convincing. “Guess he wasn’t. It took awhile to get that. I don’t know if I do still.”

“Yeah, well, he has shitty taste,” Troy said. He hoped it came off as a friend thing, even though it really wasn’t. “Uh, so, I can only speak for myself, but if you ever wonder if I’ll stick around in the long run -- I will.”

Parse coughed. He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. “You think I don’t know that, huh? I know you, Troy. You’d be there at three in the morning if I needed you.”

“Well, damn, when you say it like that, maybe I’d make you wait.” Troy laughed. It sounded a little breathless, which was the worst thing ever right now. “You dick.”

“Three in the morning, four in the morning….” Parse grinned over at him. “Don’t pretend it’s not true.”

Troy quit nursing his beer and just drained it. “You’re something else, Parse. Yeah, I’d be there. No shit. You happy?”

Parse knocked him on the shoulder, maybe a little softer than he normally would. “‘Course I am. And thanks, man. You’re -- I’m lucky to have you, huh?”

“You really are,” Troy said, and he shook his head when he saw Parse trying to catch the server’s eye for another drink. He dropped a stack of bills on the counter. “Come on, let’s go. Let’s get an Uber or something. My friends aren’t gonna forgive me if they don’t get to party with you tonight.”

“Well yeah,” Parse said. His grin was back in place. “I’m a big fucking deal.”


	8. July

**JULY**

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


I really, really, really, really, really, really like you,

And I want you, do you want me, do you want me too?…. [(x)](https://open.spotify.com/track/0PGLRTN0X6DrXh645WJCIY?si=IzBNsoKTTka4cUwj-75eHA)  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


Troy’s family rented a cottage on AirBnB. It was a little north of San Francisco with a great view of the bay, the kind of place they’d never be able to afford to live year-round. Troy had a problem with sitting on the porch watching the sunset, mostly because it made him wish Parse were there next to him.

“You look lonely,” his mom said one of those evenings. “Are you going to start dating again? I think a boyfriend would be great for you.”

“I’m driving into Vegas this weekend. Parse’s birthday.” He’d seen a new post from Parse on Instagram today, a bonfire with the guys. Parse had been wearing a hat Troy got him, and with the sunset behind him his eyes looked almost purple. 

“I get sad thinking about you all alone,” his mom said, and he let her go inside without him. 

He didn’t hear his mom say stuff like that often, and he felt kind of numb the whole drive into Vegas. It wasn’t until he was walking up the stairs to Parse’s apartment -- a place he’d been a thousand times, where he felt more at home now than anywhere else in the city -- that he felt himself thaw enough to even know what he was feeling. 

“Hey!” Parse said when he opened the door, and after he pulled back from their quick hug to actually see Troy’s face, he frowned. “Something wrong?”

“I’ve been staying with my family too long.” He wanted to at least take off his shoes before unloading all his problems. Preferably get a glass of some kind of alcohol in his hand. “How do you feel about me raiding your liquor cabinet?”

“First let me get you a sandwich, at least,” Parse said. “You had a long fucking drive. Do you need, like, a shower or anything?”

He just needed to sit down. “I’m okay. I just -- you know my family likes to act okay with me being single only for so long. Then they spring it on me.”

“Ah.” Parse touched Troy’s arm just above the elbow, trying to be comforting, and Troy felt himself relax. “They’re so obsessed with you. They want you to find someone who’ll be just as obsessed when they’re not there to do it.” 

Troy let Parse lead him toward the couch. Maybe it was wisest to skip the alcohol, anyway. “Being single is fine until someone asks me why I’m single.” 

“You should try having less dateable qualities,” Parse said. He sat close to Troy, one knee against his. “Then no one would question why you’re not seeing anyone.”

“Okay, shut up,” Troy laughed, and he pushed Parse’s shoulder. He wanted to know exactly how dateable Parse thought he was, but it wasn’t like he could fucking ask. He leaned back against the couch, shifting just enough so that their knees weren’t touching anymore.

Parse rested his arm on Troy’s shoulder. “I know, though. It’s hard for people like us to date when you’re, you know. A high-profile player. People don’t get that.” 

Troy had a buddy in the league who was dating a man. He knew it could work. But he didn’t need to explain to Parse that the main reason he wasn’t putting himself out there was because he was waiting around for his best friend. “Yeah.” 

They sat there quietly. Parse scratched Purrs under the chin with one hand, his other arm still on Troy. Troy wondered if he should ask Parse about his dating life, if he’d hooked up at all lately, but he didn’t really want to hear about it. 

“Hey,” Parse said, once Purrs had wandered off and Troy was starting to feel like he was going crazy from trying not to lean into him. “If worst comes to worst, you can move back to Vegas and be my trophy husband.”

“Ha.” Troy knew Parse was talking about that stupid mug his sister gave him. It still sent a twinge of pain through his chest. 

“Feel better now?”

Troy looked over, and Parse was looking back. Which was normal, they were having a conversation, but something about seeing Parse’s eyes right now made Troy a little light-headed. He looked away. “Yep, that was exactly what I needed to hear. You ever think about leaving hockey and becoming a therapist?”

Parse snickered and pushed himself up off the couch. Troy’s shoulder immediately felt wrong without him there. “Maybe I will. Wanna order in? I’m in the mood for Mexican.” 

“Sounds good.” Troy got up, stretched. “And -- yeah. Thanks.”

“No problem, man,” Parse said, and Troy believed him.

Parse’s birthday party was over at Brody’s house, partly because Parse was obsessed with Brody’s infinity pool and partly because Brody liked to be in charge of shit. Troy went out that day to buy a flashy bag to pack Parse’s gifts in, carefully surrounding everything with tissue paper as he prepared to drive with Parse over to the party.

He checked off the presents one by one. A Halloween costume for Purrs. Three jars of mango salsa from a California farmer’s market. A CD he’d burned of songs that he associated with their friendship, and that he thought Parse would too.

The last one was a little much. It felt like the kind of thing you did when you were fourteen and in love. Troy kind of felt the same on the inside as he was back when he actually was fourteen and in love, but as far as friend gestures go, he wasn’t sure how Parse would take that.

But when they got to the party, Troy didn’t have space to feel nervous. There was too much loud music, too many people laughing, too much booze. Troy drank a ton of fruity drinks, something with more Malibu in it than seemed normal, and he found himself in the pool wearing nothing but his boxers. Which was weird, because he’d definitely brought his swim trunks with.

Parse was sitting in front of him, on the concrete by the pool. One foot skimming across the water. Troy looked at his knee, eyes wandering up Parse’s tan thigh until he remembered how to stop himself. 

“Are you just going to sit there in your underwear?” Parse said. His foot flexed, sending a small flick of water across Troy’s face and neck. “You’re in another league of drunk, Nate.”

Troy’s stomach heated up at the sound of Parse saying his real name. He blinked a few times. Play it cool. “Guess I am. This’s why people cut me off at three drinks, huh?”

Parse’s foot poked Troy in the shoulder. “Didn’t say it was a bad thing.” 

‘Huh.” Troy tried to say something else, but he was getting the completely unfamiliar feeling that Parse was flirting with him, and he was pretty sure that if he opened his mouth again, he would regret it. “Hmm.” 

He dunked his head under the water and bounced off the bottom of the pool toward the deeper water. Further from Parse, where Parse couldn’t touch him or splash him or make him feel like his brain was on fire. 

Parse was watching him when he came up for air. His hands grabbed at the hem of his t-shirt, like he was thinking about pulling it off. “Want me to jump in there with you?” Parse asked. His mouth curled up in a smirk. Troy was going to piss himself right here in the pool.

“Parser!” someone yelled. It was Keillor, Troy thought distantly, and he temporarily felt like he hated Keillor. “C’mere, we need you in the bocce ball tournament!”

Troy waved Parse off, because it’d be weird as fuck to tell him to blow off something as important as the Aces’ annual bocce ball tournament. “Maybe later, Parse. Now go on, try not to lose.” 

He drifted in the pool for a while longer, long enough to know that Joey was dominating the tournament as usual, and eventually he toweled off and went inside. There was a spread on the counter of crackers, meats, and cheeses, and a huge punch bowl that Troy needed to stay away from for the rest of the day. There was also a wagon that one of the guys had carted in that was full of Parse’s presents. 

Troy stared at the wagon. He could see his gift bag squeezed neatly against one side of it, and he had the absolutely irrational urge to take out the CD he’d made and hide it so Parse would never know about it. 

He knew it wasn’t a big deal, on paper, to give Parse a mix CD that included the song that had been playing at a party when Parse gave him a real hug for the first time, because most people wouldn’t remember that anyway. But the thing was: he knew that Parse remembered. 

Troy knew Parse remembered, because yesterday they’d been driving together to go get coffee at Parse’s favorite place, and Parse had grabbed his phone at a red light and put Call Me Maybe on. “Remember this?” he’d said, grinning at Troy in the space before the light turned green. “Ollie’s party?”

Troy’s heart had raced then, almost as fast as when Parse had looked him over in the pool just now. Troy remembered Parse’s leg stretched out, foot on his shoulder. What the fuck?

He went to the window and moved the blinds apart so he could see the backyard. Parse was sitting in a lawn chair, laughing at something the other guys were saying. His cheeks were pink from the sun. 

He didn’t look a thing like he’d looked when he was standing above Troy by the pool, or next to him in the car. 

Shit, was Parse _actually_ flirting with him?

“Troy!” someone yelled behind him, and Troy jumped a mile. He turned, trying not to look like a total maniac even though he basically was at this point, and it was Brody. “Hey,” Brody said. “We’re doing a rematch out here. You gotta play this time, c’mon.”

“Okay,” Troy said. He walked out to the yard in a sort of zombie-like trance, and he couldn’t really remember any of the conversation he had for the first five minutes. He tried not to look at Parse, but it was hard when Parse was surrounded by friends who laughed at all his jokes. It was hard when Parse was glowing like that.

Eventually Troy loosened up, and unfortunately he hadn’t gotten any better at bocce ball since last year. He was lucky he wasn’t all that competitive when he was off the ice, because somehow finding himself in the position where he could win or lose the game for his team -- and proceeding to lose spectacularly with a horrible toss -- could have been crushing if he’d been a weaker man.

“Motherfucker,” Ollie hissed as Troy’s ball rolled at least fifteen feet past where it needed to be.

Parse and some of the guys on the other team made a big show of mobbing Troy and jumping around like he was the hero of the game, which at least earned a laugh. 

They moved into the living room for food, and pretty soon Parse was demanding everyone shut up so he could open his presents. Troy sat on the floor next to one of the armchairs. He found himself getting more and more nervous as the gift opening went on. By the time Parse was halfway through the gift wagon, Troy had scooted halfway past the chair so that he was practically out of sight.

But when Parse got to Troy’s gift -- he laughed at the cat costume and yelled for someone to get out more chips so he could share the salsa with everyone -- he looked at the burned CD and went quiet. 

“What is it, dude?” someone asked. 

Parse smiled, then, his cheeks pinker than they’d been a minute ago. “Just some songs. Thanks, man.”

Troy tuned out the immediate sound of all the guys chirping him and smiled back at Parse. That was important. The way Parse visibly caught his breath was so much more important. 

Parse came up by him by the dessert table later, surrounded by half of the old team. “Your gift was my favorite,” Parse said, almost a whisper. He was smiling. Troy tried to ignore the hairs standing up on the back of his neck. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Troy said, and then his brain short-circuited when Parse brushed the back of his hand against Troy’s forearm, fingernails lightly scraping his skin, and then Parse turned to the food.

_What._ Troy stared at Parse as he walked away. Parse seemed normal. Maybe Troy was reading way too much into all this. Troy was a little jumpy the rest of the night, but Parse seemed happy just talking to everyone.

Troy had plans to stay over at Brody’s that night, so he said goodbye to Parse at the door. Parse stretched up for a hug, and Troy didn’t think he was wrong in noticing that it lasted longer than usual. That Parse’s hands rested on his shoulders afterward instead of just letting go.

“Hey,” Parse said. “I don’t say it often, but I appreciate you. You’re a great friend.”

Troy didn’t think he was a great friend, based on the way he watched Parse’s mouth when he talked.

And if the way Parse looked right back, biting his lip a little, was any indication, maybe Parse didn’t necessarily want him to be.


	9. August

**AUGUST**

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


As long as we’re together,

There’s no place I’d rather be. [(x)](https://open.spotify.com/track/3s4U7OHV7gnj42VV72eSZ6?si=RXS5qtofSH6IUN4n48mfrg)  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


Troy thought a lot about what Parse had been like at his birthday party over the next few weeks. He talked to Parse a lot on the phone, but if Parse was sitting in his Vegas apartment with those same heavy-lidded, lip-biting expressions from the party, Troy sure as hell couldn’t pick up on it over the phone. Mostly, Parse sounded pretty chill. 

They were getting closer and closer to the first game of the preseason, and Troy was getting used to thinking of his new teammates as just his teammates. 

So when one of his old teammates invited Troy to a quiet weekend at Ollie’s family cabin in Canada -- just Ollie, Troy, and Parse -- Troy said yes, but he said it with a whirl of happy nerves in his gut. He didn’t know which Parse he would get this time.

It turned out, he got the Parse who wore his navy baseball cap pointing forwards, and who wanted to drink coffee and watch the sunrise. Who sat quietly in the boat and caught more fish than Troy and Ollie combined, like there was a secret to it. Who sat by Ollie more than by Troy, but looked over at Troy and smiled all the damn time.

Ollie steered the pontoon through a shallow channel connecting to a smaller lake, and they set down their fishing poles and went for beers instead. The area wasn’t built up much. Troy could only see a couple cabins behind the tree line. Everything was quiet, except for Ollie’s low stream of conversation. Troy set his beer down and closed his eyes.

“Pretty good view, eh?” Ollie said, loud enough that Troy sat up a little. 

“Yeah,” he said automatically. But he looked around, and it was true. The sun was beginning to set. Something about the purple in the sky made the people on the boat look softer. Troy quickly looked back out at the water again. “Beautiful.”

Parse coughed. Troy tried not to read too much into it.

Ollie turned the boat when the sun was just hovering over the water. They had three fish in the cooler for a late dinner, and Troy was already starting to miss the stillness of this place. He missed sitting next to Parse. 

“Hey,” he said, trying to erase some of the distance by putting his feet up on the seat that was closer to Parse. “You ever want to buy a cabin somewhere out here? It seems like you like it.” 

Parse’s face was shadowed under his cap. “It is nice, man. But, I mean, why spend all that money when I can just crash my friends’ cabins? And you know I’d suck at maintaining it.”

Troy didn’t know that. Parse, for all that he joked about being incapable of adult obligations, took his responsibilities just as seriously as anyone Troy knew. But he was probably biased by how good he thought Parse looked on a lake. “I dunno, dude, this might be the next big purchase I make once I’m more settled in. Like, look at that.” He pointed at the sunset.

“Dude,” Ollie laughed, just as a loon called out somewhere to the east of them. “You want to build a cabin on this lake? We’d be neighbors, that’d be so tight.” 

“As long as I can use your boat until I get my own.” Troy looked at Parse. “And if you rethink things, you can always get some property up here too. The three of us retiring up here, eh? Think about it.”

“Hell yeah,” Parse said, and he raised his beer.

Troy volunteered to fry up the fish once they got back to Ollie’s cabin. He could hear Ollie and Parse looking for a game to put on in the background. By the time he was plating up the pan-fried fish with a side of greens, the other two had settled on a movie instead, one of those superhero flicks that Troy had no interest in. But it was better than some sci-fi shit, and he figured he had Parse to thank for that.

Ollie scarfed the food down in about twenty seconds, but Parse took his time. He was still eating when the first bad guy appeared on screen, anyway, which for a hockey player was really savoring his meal. “This is awesome, Troy,” Parse said. He patted Troy on the knee. “Thanks.”

Troy was thankful that the lights had been turned low for the movie, because he felt like his face and neck were on fire. “Old Troy family recipe. You’re welcome.” 

Parse moved his hand, but Troy still felt it there on his knee for a good long time. 

It was kind of a bummer that Ollie was a huge movie nerd, because he made it really hard for Troy and Parse to make fun of the movie while they watched. They settled for whispering, and mostly Ollie pretended he couldn’t hear them. 

“Why does he look constipated?” Parse whispered in Troy’s ear as one of the heroes made a tough guy face. 

Troy tried to suppress his shiver. “He’s inspiring his team. By being constipated.”

“If he can fight off evil and fight constipation at the same time, we can do anything.”

“You should try this with the Aces this season,” Troy whispered, and Parse laughed so hard Ollie reached over to hit him in the stomach. “Aw, leave him alone, Ollie, it’s not his fault.”

“Come closer and I’ll hit you too,” Ollie warned. “Now shut up, you’re ruining the movie.”

Troy didn’t think the movie was good enough to be ruined, but he didn’t actually know how it ended. Parse was just so comfortable, especially when he was wearing that soft sweatshirt and kind of leaning over to make his shoulder an even better pillow. Troy woke up when Ollie turned on the lights.

Parse patted him on the leg. “Wake up, sleeping beauty.” 

Troy shoved his face even more into Parse, avoiding the light. “Unnhh.” He slowly pulled himself up, hanging onto Parse for balance, and didn’t realize until he was sitting straight up again that he really, really missed Parse’s scent and warmth. Well, shit, it wasn’t like he could burrow back into him now without making it weird. “Sorry. Did I drool on you?”

“Nah, man, it’s fine. I will gladly be your pillow.” Parse laughed, and Troy felt it in his chest. 

“What about me?” Ollie demanded, and he jumped onto Parse. Parse barely put up a fight, and soon enough he was smushed under Ollie’s elbows.

“Troy,” Parse said. His voice was muffled. “Help me out?”

Troy patted Parse on the head. “You seem fine to me.”

“Damn, I’m sleepy,” Ollie mumbled. “Maybe I actually will fall asleep on you. Pillow Parse.” But he got up, stretched, and went off to bed. 

Ollie’s absence felt loud to Troy. Loud, obvious, and inviting. He stretched his legs out and pushed his feet against Parse’s side even though he figured it wasn’t a great idea. “I can’t believe we have to get out of here tomorrow.” 

Parse smiled at him. He looked overtired, squinting a little at the lights. “Yeah. I wish we could stay.”

He looked Troy right in the eye, and then he looked down at his lap. Troy watched him. His heart was beating faster and faster even though nothing was really happening. 

After a minute, Parse rolled his shoulders back. “I’m gonna make tea,” he said, and after he stood up he reached down to pull Troy up too. It wasn’t like Troy needed the help, but he took Parse’s hand wordlessly and held it lightly. Their hands felt warm together. Careful. 

Parse let go. He smiled at Troy again.

Troy mostly drank tea when his mom made it, and she would always brew it the proper way. He wasn’t surprised when Parse just put a mug of water in the microwave. “Peppermint?” Parse asked. He was poking around the boxes of tea. “Orange? Uh… jasmine?”

Troy nudged Parse’s hand out of the way and opened the peppermint tea box. He took out two bags. Parse nodded, his head close enough to Troy’s shoulder that the movement somehow made Troy lose his breath. 

The microwave beeped. Parse took out one mug and put in the other. They watched as the timer counted down.

“I’ll miss you when you go back,” Parse said. 

Troy loved him. It was heavy and light all at once; he wordlessly wrapped his arms around Parse from behind. Ten seconds left on the countdown. Parse sighed and leaned back into Troy, and Troy’s thumb was trembling as he rubbed it against Parse’s arm. Three seconds left. Troy didn’t know if it would be okay to lean forward, press his face against Parse’s hair, but he wanted to. 

The microwave beeped. Parse shifted, and Troy let go. As Parse took the mug out, Troy moved a few steps away, his heart racing. 

It was quiet in the kitchen while the tea steeped. Parse sat at the table, his chin resting in one hand, and Troy stayed where he was, leaning against the counter. Parse yawned a few times. Troy swirled the tea bag around in the water.

“I think mine’s ready,” he finally said, and Parse agreed. He felt Parse watching him as they slowly drank, and when he looked back at Parse, Parse just gave him a small smile.

The next day, Troy drove them to the airport. Ollie didn’t complain when Parse took shotgun, but there was a first time for everything. “Play me some bangers,” Ollie said from where he was sprawled across the backseat. “Not you, Troy. Your taste in music is a hundred years old.”

“Hey,” Parse said, as if he cared more than Troy. “Sometimes Troy has good taste.” He fiddled around in his backpack, and Troy felt his own heart speed up when Parse pulled out a familiar CD case. 

Troy kept his eyes carefully on the road as the music started. His face felt warm. 

“What’s this?” Ollie asked. He sounded dubious.

“Carly…” Parse paused and turned around. “You don’t know Carly Rae Jepsen? What the fuck, are we friends?”

“Who the fuck knows Carly Rae Jepsen,” Ollie mumbled. “Troy, do you know Carly Rae Jepsen?”

“Uh.” Troy couldn’t hold back a smile. He glanced over at Parse. “Yeah.”

“Dude, this is the CD Troy made for my birthday,” Parse explained. “This is, like, our song.”

Ollie laughed. “Okay, man. Let’s just pretend that’s normal.”

Parse knocked Troy’s arm with the empty CD case. “I think it’s nice.”

Troy looked over. Parse was visibly tired, but happy, his hair curling under his hat. He was Parse, which meant he was perfect. 

“Yeah,” he said, and he managed to look back at the road.


	10. September

**SEPTEMBER**

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


And if you have a minute why don’t we go

Talk about it somewhere only we know? [(x)](https://open.spotify.com/track/1mvfvDZOybiEgS1ecJxt9W)  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


Parties with his new team were, surprisingly, not that bad. Troy knew that he took a while to warm up to new people. But he had graduated from sitting on the couch with the couple of guys who only wanted to talk hockey to his new thing, which was standing by the drinks and giving Louis shit all night. He figured that counted as progress.

Louis had his eye on a girl across the room. Tall, blonde, playing cards. “Ask her to dance,” Troy said. 

“Nobody else is dancing,” Louis pointed out. 

Troy tried not to laugh. “So it’s romantic to be the first ones.”

“Fuck off, Troybert,” Louis said. He was trying to make that a thing, but nobody else was really catching on to it. “Why don’t we try to find you a date?”

“Here?” Troy glanced at the drink in Louis’s hand. How many had he had, anyway? “Are you crazy?” 

Louis waved him away. “I know people. Noonan knows people. I want you to invest in a relationship so you stop bothering me at parties.”

“Giving you great advice at parties,” Troy corrected him, and he dodged the annoyed smack Louis tried to land on him. He hit Louis on the shoulder. “Look, man, I don’t need to date right now. I can’t focus on that during the season, I get too tired.”

“Sure you do,” Louis said. “I’m thinking of somebody in Las Vegas who you wouldn’t be too tired to --”

“No, no, come on,” Troy interrupted. “We’re friends.” He felt his phone buzzing in his jeans then. It had to be his alarm to get ready to video call Parse. Fucking hell, bad timing.

His face must have been doing something. Louis was looking at him funny. “You gonna get that, dude?”

“Hey, you know what, I’m gonna head out early tonight,” Troy said. He hoped he seemed very casual. “I need to catch up on my sleep. And, you know, I can’t watch you fuck things up with that girl, it’s just sad.”

“Right, so it’s number ninety on the phone, then?”

“Aw, shut up,” Troy said, and he left before Louis could laugh at him more. 

Troy supposed he could have just rescheduled his call with Parse, but he really didn’t want to. That was the simple truth. As much as he liked his new teammates -- and he did -- it was still sometimes overwhelming trying to fit in with a new team culture. Getting to talk to Parse, getting to see his face, felt like a reward at the end of the day.

His bedroom was a mess, so he sat on the couch in his living room and waited for Parse’s call there. It was an unseasonably hot day, and he worried that his hair looked sweaty. Too late to help now. 

“Hey!” Parse said when Troy answered. He had obviously just finished a workout, and somehow the sight of him in a drenched shirt, skin glistening, was the hottest thing Troy had ever seen. Even after seeing it a thousand times. “What’s up, man? Sorry, I lost track of time. Almost.”

“Well, hey there. I can smell you from here.” Troy felt like he was in a trance, all glazed over, watching Parse flush and laugh. “Uh, so, you do anything today? Other than the obvious.”

Parse took a pause to gulp from his water bottle. Troy had to look away because, come on. “Yeah, I went out for dinner with a couple of the guys. Even came home at a reasonable hour to get a workout in before seeing you.”

“Nice, yeah,” Troy said. He was still circling the phrase _seeing you._ “So where’d you go? Pizza Calor?” It was where they’d gone for Troy’s birthday two years ago. For all kinds of occasions and non-occasions, actually. Troy hadn’t realized until this moment, emotion twisting in his chest, how much he missed going there with Parse.

Parse was shaking his head, almost violently. “Hell no. I haven’t gone there since you -- how about we go there together next time you’re in town? I’ll pay.”

Troy nodded. He didn’t have much to say. He was pretty sure his face was saying it for him.

He thought about Parse more than usual in the following days. At the normal times, like when he was lying in bed at night and losing his restraint, or when he was eating lunch and remembering how he used to eat at least one meal with Parse every day. 

But he thought about Parse at weird times, too. Wondering if Parse had a favorite color to see him wear. Watching the leaves change, wishing Parse could visit him so he could take the basic fall selfies he never could take in Vegas.

Troy was losing his mind as far as Parse was concerned. So when his sister texted him a link to an Aces PR video where Parse mentioned him, it wasn’t his first time seeing it. Or his second, to be honest. 

In the video, Parse was sitting with Joey. He used to do official PR stuff with Troy, but obviously the Aces had assigned him a new partner now. Troy didn’t like the feeling of being replaced, and he didn’t think Joey made sense to put with Parse anyway. He was aware it was somewhat ridiculous to care about this.

It was one of the fun, fast-paced videos that fans liked. Favorite drink order, guilty pleasure movie, stuff like that. 

“Celebrity crush?” As if that were a comfortable question to ask the team captain, face of the franchise, who had never even been rumored to be dating a woman. Sometimes Troy hated the people who came up with this shit. 

Parse smiled. He answered right away. “Nathan Troy. Cutest smile in the league.” 

It was a funny answer, not the kind of thing that anyone would ever take seriously. People online seemed to think it was sweet that Parse and Troy were still buddies, if they mentioned it at all. 

Meanwhile, Troy could only go ten seconds at a time the whole rest of the night without thinking about that answer. 

He called Joey the next day, not really sure why he was calling or what he wanted to say. He still didn’t have a plan by the time Joey picked up. “Hey, dude. What’s up?”

“Oh, you know. Just wanted to see how things are going.” Troy had no idea where he was going with this. “Saw your interview about Olivia Wilde. Made me want to call you up and make sure you know you have no chance with her.”

Joey laughed, loud as ever. “Yeah, well, maybe I just got off the phone with her. You see Parser talk about you, too? I swear he’s pining. Probably sleeps in your jersey and everything.” 

Troy had never actually imagined that before. He tried to focus. “Yeah.” His laugh sounded fake, but maybe that was just obvious to him. “I’m a hard guy to forget. You’ll have to help him move on.”

“Yeah, like, some of the guys were trying to set him up with some chicks for once. Ollie and Victor, they said they knew his type. But I guess he’s too hung up on you, it didn’t work out. The dude needs to live a little.”

Troy read between the lines -- Ollie and Victor were some of the only guys who officially knew Parse was gay, so those “chicks” had definitely not been chicks. He tried not to be too relieved to hear that Parse hadn’t been interested in other guys. It didn’t work. “Just be grateful, Joey. If he really wanted to, he’d steal all your girls.” 

Joey laughed loudly, and Troy couldn’t help but laugh with him. “Parse is too much of a bro to do that, dude. Now I gotta go before I’m late for my date.”

“You have a date? Is this Joey I’m talking to? Is this some bodysnatchers shit?”

“Fucking hilarious, man. Kiss my ass and have a good night.” 

Troy hung up. He allowed himself five minutes to actually imagine Parse going to bed in his jersey. He let it turn to ten minutes. Then he shook himself out of it, because friendships need boundaries, right?

He pulled out his phone and tried to just scroll through Instagram or something, but he ended up at that video again without really thinking about it.

“Nathan Troy,” Parse said on his screen. For maybe the fifteenth time that day. “Cutest smile in the league.” Troy already knew that Parse’s eyes were going to gleam as he smiled, that his nose was going to crinkle just a little when he started laughing. It was the same every time, but he was never ready for it. His chest ached watching, but he was smiling.

Parse’s smile had a tendency to do that.

He switched over to Twitter and found the video on the Aces’ account. It took one second to hit retweet, but it took him almost ten minutes to settle on what to comment. 

_Right back at you KP_ , he typed, and he slapped on a couple heart emojis for good measure. He hit the retweet button, not knowing whether it would be worse for Parse to realize that he really meant it or for Parse to think it was just a joke. 

Troy was just getting dinner started when he got a text from Parse. _What’s up? You busy?_

He took a picture of his messy counter and sent it.

_Okay Chef Troy. If I call you in 30 will you answer?_

Troy was pretty sure he’d answer if Parse called him anytime, anywhere. One time he’d pulled over on the highway to answer Parse’s call. No one needed to know that.

“Hey man,” Parse said once Troy was sitting at the table with his food. “Looks good. How’ve you been?”

They didn’t have a video call scheduled for today. Troy twirled some noodles around his fork while he thought about everything he wasn’t going to say. “I’m alright. Talked to Joey. He said he has a date? How the hell did that happen?”

Parse laughed, and Troy sucked in his breath. “Your guess is as good as mine, man. He definitely hasn’t upped his game any, that’s for sure.”

“He said you were dating too,” Troy said. “Or, that you were sort of trying. How’s that going? Is Purrs getting a stepdad?” 

Parse reacted in about five different ways. Troy was used to him being dramatic. He rolled his eyes, groaned, covered his face, shook his head, and finally said, “Oh my god! Everyone needs to get off my jock already. I don’t even want to meet someone right now!”

“Oh, really.” Troy hoped it was true. His heart was beating faster and faster for it to be true.

“Really! Shut up!” Parse scrubbed a hand over his face a few more times. That seemed to calm him down. “Okay, it’s not that big of a deal. Sorry. I just don’t see myself going down that whole path right now. I have my hands full with all the people I already know. I don’t want to meet someone new and have him expect to be, like, the most important person in my life all of a sudden.”

Troy decided not to bring up the existence of casual dating, because he was pretty sure Parse already knew about that. “Sounds like you’ve got your mind made up, then.”

“Shut up, like you’re doing all this dating yourself,” Parse laughed. “Uh, are you?”

“Nah, man, I’m working on myself right now,” Troy said, and Parse cracked up. 

There was a loud banging at Troy’s door. Shit, he’d totally forgotten that some of the guys were going out to a bar tonight. Some country-western thing with karaoke. “Hey T! What’s up man, are you alive?”

Troy swiped over to check his texts. So, yeah, he’d missed a lot of those while he’d been talking with Parse. “Shit, sorry. It’s some guys from the team. They want me to go out to some bar that sounds, like, completely awful. I’ll get rid of them, just a sec.”

Parse shook his head. “Come on, man, you gotta get out there and have fun with ‘em. I’m always around, you can talk to me later.”

Troy would rather stay and talk to Parse any day of the week, but he didn’t think he could say that. “I don’t know, man. I can --”

“Seriously.” Parse smiled at him. “Go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Go have fun.”

Troy didn’t put up an argument. He went out, and it didn’t even suck. It could have even been fun, but he kept imagining what would have happened, maybe in a parallel universe, if he’d stayed there in his kitchen. 

Another hour with Parse. He was pretty sure he’d always want just one more.


End file.
